


Pillow Talk

by Phoenix_Soar



Series: Wicked Thing [15]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angel/Demon Relationship, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Banter, Bathtub Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cock Warming, Communication, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Declarations Of Love, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Morning After, Pillow Principality Aziraphale (Good Omens), Porn with Feelings, Requited Love, Rimming, Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Shower Sex, Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25832608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Soar/pseuds/Phoenix_Soar
Summary: For the first time in Crowley’s existence, he is not alone in bed when he wakes up.The morning after they make their relationship official, Crowley takes a moment to wrap his mind around how his millennia-long, once-impossible dream has finally come true. Aziraphale joins him for the journey.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Wicked Thing [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1546879
Comments: 27
Kudos: 265





	Pillow Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Part 15 of the 'Wicked Thing' verse. To understand the context of this fic, please read the first two parts ['Wicked Games'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21286790) and ['Hopes Realised'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21458725).  
> This fic also references ['Sweet Offerings'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22803700) and ['Just, let me'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22868320); recommended but not necessary to understand this story. (Plus mild references to ['When in Rome'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22605847).)
> 
> This takes place the morning after 'Hopes Realised'. For a long time, I envisioned Crowley and Aziraphale would have a few heart-to-hearts about their previous 'casual' relationship, after they officially get together. This fic is a beginning to that journey: they talk, they love, they fuck, repeatedly and not necessarily in that order.
> 
> Beware of dramatic saps ahead.

Crowley is a loving thing, against all odds and the very design of nature.

Crowley is a loving thing and for the longest time, indeed since before the concept of time existed, he has been forced to hide it under the guise of wickedness.

Until the Armageddon that never came to pass, Crowley had believed that was all he could ever be. All that he was allowed to be.

A wicked thing, as befits a Demon that slithered up from Hell.

But then the sun rises on the second day of the rest of their lives, and Crowley wakes up to cloud-soft hair tickling his nose.

He opens his eyes blearily, mildly annoyed at the sunlight* filtering in through the bay windows of his bedroom. The sight that greets him is even brighter than he expects and he blinks, now confused. His vision adjusts and Crowley comprehends what he is seeing - the golden haze of early morning sunshine caught in the palest of blond hair.

(* His blinds never allow in a speck of light until noon at the earliest. But this morning marks a special day, and his flat knows better than to let Crowley miss it.)

There is a puff of hot breath on Crowley’s chest right then, as memories from the previous day come flooding in. Crowley freezes, all traces of sleep vanishing as he realises -

For the first time in his existence, he is not waking up alone in his bed.

He is also nude. As is his companion.

Crowley pulls back, regretfully taking his nose out of the white-blond curls to look down at the creature nestled against him.

He remembers all of yesterday vividly, everything that happened after their victory lunch at the Ritz. Yet, his breath still catches in his throat when he sees -

‘Aziraphale…’

The Angel is lying on his side facing Crowley, looking utterly peaceful in his slumber. With one arm pillowed under his head, he has the other slung around Crowley’s waist; a mirror image to Crowley who has the Angel slotted snugly to him, as if they have been like this since time immemorial.

Crowley stares at the Angel in his arms. He has never known Aziraphale to sleep*, but right now, Crowley is very much stuck unpacking the sheer miracle that it is the morning after and Aziraphale is _still in bed_. With him.

(* When Crowley is thinking straight later, he will smugly attribute this to his prowess in bed last night, much to Aziraphale’s amusement and exasperation.)

‘You stayed,’ he murmurs, almost disbelievingly.

But of course he did, Crowley thinks then, his heart beginning to race as he recalls how Aziraphale kissed him outside the Ritz yesterday, out in the open and without reservation. He remembers clothes carefully peeled off as they stumbled into his room, and Aziraphale so soft and tender in his arms…

_I have loved you for longer than I can say._

Crowley shivers, feeling a prickling sensation in his eyes. The words resound within him as if Aziraphale were breathing them in his ear right this moment.

_Make love to me._

Easing back further, Crowley rakes his gaze hungrily over the Angel, taking in the painting he has made of Aziraphale. He traces along the red and purpling love bites he’s left on the pale skin of Aziraphale’s neck, shoulders and torso, scattered like pretty blooms in the wind. Caressing lower, his hand finds the bruises on Aziraphale’s plump hips, where Crowley had dug in his fingers to the breathless cries of _please darling, harder_ as he made love to his demanding, beautiful Angel. And further down, Crowley glimpses the imprint of his teeth, one of many greedy bites he’s left on the insides of those thick, luscious thighs.

He has left his mark all over Aziraphale with wild abandon. Without a hint of restraint.

Because he’s allowed to now.

Crowley stills again, feeling an undefinable emotion bloom within him as he lets that sink in.

Aziraphale is _his_ to love, openly and out loud, at last. And the Angel has staked his claim on Crowley just as wildly. If he were to look in a mirror, Crowley knows he will see a similar mess of bruises, left there by that delectable mouth still red and swollen from their impassioned kisses last night.

Crowley caresses Aziraphale’s cheek with the backs of his fingers, drinking in the sight of him with utter enchantment.

 _Mine_ , he thinks, feeling like his chest is caving in at the very idea.

He considers kissing Aziraphale good morning. And then maybe make love to him good morning, too. The thought is more than tempting.

But the Angel looks so serene and Crowley honestly doesn’t think Aziraphale has ever slept before. Loathe to awaken him, Crowley is about to go back to sleep when it occurs to him -

He can make tea and get Aziraphale breakfast.

That … is a thing he is allowed to do, he realises, eyes flying open. He can do things like that for Aziraphale now. Like lovers do.

No more sneaking about, no more walks of shame after secret shags, and especially no more pretence of not being arse over tit in love.

He recalls again the way Aziraphale whispered _Oh darling_ for the first time yesterday; the ease with which he said _I love you_ and _You know that_.

Crowley does know that. He’s known it for a very long time, but with all this sudden _freedom_ they have now, where does he even start?

Tea. He can start with tea.

With a kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead - Crowley can swear the Angel smiles a little and his heart nearly stops - he carefully eases himself out of their embrace. Aziraphale shifts closer to the warm spot Crowley vacates, but other than that, he remains deeply asleep.

For a minute, Crowley remains by his bed, just taking it all in. There is an almost ethereal-like glow to Aziraphale, the paleness of his skin and hair lit by the morning sun. Such a sharp juxtaposition he is to the pitch blackness of Crowley’s sheets.

This is real, he has to remind himself again. Aziraphale is here, in Crowley’s bed, naked and loved and utterly _his_. Crowley gets to have this, their life together now.

The sheer amount of love and joy within him threaten to suffocate, and he has to force himself to tuck the covers around the Angel and turn away.

On his way out, Crowley pauses by his full-length mirror*. Just as he’d known, his body proudly bears the signs of Aziraphale’s love, left mainly on his neck and shoulders. Love bites decorate his hip bones as well, and there are bruises down his sides where Aziraphale had clung to him.

(* Preferring to miracle himself in an out of clothes, Crowley doesn’t exactly need a mirror. But keeping one on hand seemed appropriate after he claimed credit for the invention of silvered-glass mirrors to score some Vanity points with Downstairs in the early nineteenth century.)

Raising an eyebrow, Crowley twists around. _Fucking heaven_ , his whistles under his breath. Aziraphale has done a real number on his back with those pretty manicured nails of his. Who would’ve thought?

Grinning uncontrollably, Crowley miracles on the black satin pyjamas he usually wears to bed and pads out of the room.

There is a strange new feeling to his flat as Crowley makes his way to the kitchen. Where once the minimalist grey rooms and corridors had felt cool and impersonal, a warmth suffuses the air now; like a lantern Crowley is carrying with him.

As he picks out some Darjeeling from the cupboards he keeps well-stocked for the hell of it, he wonders if it has anything to do with the Angel’s presence. Aziraphale is finally in Crowley’s life, unambiguous and permanent, and Crowley entertains the idea that his flat is aware of this too, transforming what was once simply a shelter into … well, _home_.

Crowley waits for the tea to steep, blushing as he imagines it - the two of them making a home here, sleeping and holding each other in bed, eating expensive takeout in the kitchen, arguing and laughing over wine in the sitting room. Making love on every available surface*.

(* Aziraphale will prove to be surprisingly amenable to trying out the ceiling.)

And, Crowley muses as he pours out the tea, maybe he’ll end up finding a home in Aziraphale’s bookshop as well. Over the past few centuries, they have spent more time together there than in any of Crowley’s residences - only now, they can do all of these domestic things at the shop and Crowley won’t be expected to leave.

Snapping off a miracle to keep the tea piping hot, Crowley ponders what to do next. Maybe he can pop by that French patisserie Aziraphale adores to get croissants and doughnuts. Or they can go out to the patisserie for an actual breakfast date. Or Aziraphale may want to just sleep in the whole day and Crowley can definitely get behind that.

Blessed stars above, is this what it’s like to have _options_?

‘Crowley…?’

Starting at the plaintive call, Crowley spins around. ‘In the kitchen, angel!’

There are soft footfalls and Aziraphale appears in the doorway. Crowley’s mouth goes dry.Aziraphale is barefoot and wrapped in the scarlet dressing gown Crowley keeps for days he doesn’t feel like pyjamas.

Not a single bit of him is ready for the sight of Aziraphale in his clothes*, the difference in their builds apparent in the way the robe hugs the Angel around his middle in a way it doesn’t Crowley. He is even less prepared for the flash of bare thigh through the gown’s slit when Aziraphale walks forward, his entire thought process derailed** at the realisation Aziraphale is wearing nothing underneath.

(* A term applied lightly here.

** Which probably says a lot about Crowley, considering he’s known Aziraphale in the biblical sense for two thousand years already.)

Distracted by his suddenly very interested cock, Crowley takes note of the quiet distress on Aziraphale’s countenance a second before the Angel is on him. He presses Crowley back against the counter with a desperate kiss.

Crowley gives a muffled grunt, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale reflexively as the Angel fists his hands in his pyjamas, kissing Crowley with an intensity that is surprising but certainly not unwelcome. Leaning back, Crowley crushes Aziraphale to him, letting the Angel practically devour him for what may have been seconds or minutes.

Crowley is feeling quite thoroughly debauched by the time Aziraphale relents. ‘ _Mm_ , good morning to you, too. How was your first sleep?’ He drawls with a sharp grin.

Aziraphale doesn’t reply, breathing hard. It is then Crowley notices the trembling.

‘Aziraphale?’ Crowley straightens, now registering the expression Aziraphale wore right before that kiss. ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’

The Angel exhales, lowering his gaze. ‘Nothing, I … I’m all right.’

‘Angel.’

Aziraphale hesitates. ‘I thought - I woke up and I … thought you were gone.’

Crowley blinks. ‘Gone where? I live here.’

‘I know that, but … I suppose it was just … a bit of a shock to wake up alone.’

It all clicks for Crowley then. ‘You thought I left,’ he says quietly. The unspoken _you_ tacked on at the end is deafening in the silence that falls between them.

Aziraphale makes a shaky attempt at a smile. ‘Don’t mind me, I was just being silly.’

‘I …’ Crowley trails off, his throat clogging up. ‘Angel, I - I’d never…’

’I know,’ whispers Aziraphale. ‘Between us, it was never _you_ who left. Meanwhile I,’ he loosens his fists from Crowley’s pyjama top, resting his palms on the Demon’s chest, ‘I am such a hypocrite, aren’t I?’

‘No -’

‘I imagine,’ Aziraphale continues over him, his blue eyes growing wet, ‘if it were the other way round and you woke up to an empty bed -’

‘Don’t finish that sentence,’ says Crowley sharply.

‘But it is the truth, isn’t it?’ Aziraphale is trembling harder, his voice cracking. ‘I came to your bed and took your love, and then I left. Every time.’

‘You also gave me your love.’ Crowley cups Aziraphale’s face gently, tilting his head up to meet his eyes. ‘Every time.’

Aziraphale exhales, almost a sob. ‘I’m sorry. I am so sorry, darling, I -’

Crowley wraps up Aziraphale in his arms again, bringing their lips together in a claiming kiss. Aziraphale melts into his embrace, opening his mouth for Crowley with a moan that somehow conveys both heart-wrenching melancholy and wanton desire.

Crowley takes a minute to kiss Aziraphale the way they had all yesterday evening and night, equal parts loving and filthy. Nipping at Aziraphale’s bottom lip, he coaxes the Angel’s tongue into his mouth, sucking hotly on the sinewy muscle until Aziraphale is leaning almost bonelessly against him, trapping Crowley’s growing erection between them.

He makes a mewling sound of protest when Crowley breaks away from his lips to nose at his cheek, kissing and licking along Aziraphale’s jawline.

‘The past doesn’t matter, angel,’ Crowley breathes between kisses.

‘Of course, it matters,’ Aziraphale whispers as Crowley laves at the sensitive skin under his ear. ‘I did -’

‘ _We_ did,’ Crowley interrupts. ‘I was a willing participant, remember?’ He closes his lips over Aziraphale’s earlobe, sucking gently. ‘And I understand why we did what we did, even if I didn’t always like it.’

‘My dear…’

Crowley begins to kiss down the side of his neck, tugging down the dressing gown’s collar to expose Aziraphale’s well-loved skin. ‘We’re free now. We don’t have to hide anymore. You said it yourself yesterday, angel.’

‘I did,’ Aziraphale says, closing his eyes when Crowley sucks hungrily at the junction of his neck and shoulder. ‘And I was so happy. I wanted to make _you_ happy…’

‘You’ve made me the happiest being in existence, angel,’ Crowley whispers into his skin, pushing the robe off Aziraphale’s shoulder to continue his trail of kisses.

‘It’s just … waking up today, I … I couldn’t have blamed you if you’d decided you’d had enough. For all these millennia -’

‘For all these millennia, I’ve thought of none but you,’ says Crowley, drawing back to look Aziraphale in the eye. ‘If you think I’d leave you now, when we’re finally free to have this - you’ve got another thing coming.’

Aziraphale’s eyes are shimmering with tears but they are no longer of sorrow. ‘Oh, darling,’ he whispers, as easily as he’d said it the day before.

When Aziraphale tilts his face up again, Crowley murmurs, ‘You meant it, didn’t you?’

The Angel pauses, their lips centimetres from touching. ‘Meant what?’

‘What you said yesterday. That you love me.’

Aziraphale’s eyes widen. ‘Of course, I did. Of course, I meant it, Crowley, I love you! I have loved you for -’

‘- longer than I can say,’ Crowley echoes Aziraphale’s confession from earlier.

Aziraphale cradles Crowley’s face in his soft hands. ‘You knew that, didn’t you? Even before I could say it?’

‘Of course, I knew,’ Crowley says, leaning into the touch. ‘Was pretty incredible to hear it, though.’

A sweet smile twists the Angel’s lips, and to Crowley, it is as if the sun has risen all over again. ‘It felt incredible to say it. And …’ Aziraphale leans forward, rubbing their noses together, ‘to hear it from you, as well.’

‘Been waiting a helluva long time to say it,’ Crowley says gruffly, tightening his hold around the Angel.

‘Won’t you say it again, my love?’

The endearment sears right through Crowley, stealing his breath for a moment. ‘I - I love you,’ he chokes out.

‘Please,’ Aziraphale begs, now so close their lips are brushing together, ‘tell me again.’

‘Love you, angel,’ Crowley says, crushing the Angel into another kiss. ‘So _blessed_ much. So yeah, ’m not fucking leaving you, ever.’

‘Nor I you,’ Aziraphale gasps between messy kisses. ‘Never again. I promise, I promise. I love you -!’

Mumbling incoherent declarations of love and sweet nothings into each other’s mouths, the two of them cling to the other. Pressed flushed together already, Aziraphale continues to push harder against Crowley, like he cannot get enough. Crowley’s back is digging into the marble edge of the counter where their tea remains forgotten, and he grunts when he feels Aziraphale’s cock, hard and heavy, press against his own through the satin barriers of their nightclothes.

Aziraphale rocks his hips against Crowley, rubbing their cocks together in an insistent grind that has Crowley gasping loudly, aroused beyond measure.

‘Angel,’ he begins, but his voice dies when Aziraphale pushes down his black pyjama bottoms, freeing his erection.

With another kiss to Crowley’s lips, Aziraphale sinks to his knees, wrapping a slick hand around Crowley.

‘Fuck,’ Crowley curses at the wet slide of fingers over his aching prick. ‘Aziraphale -’

The Angel tongues at the head of his cock, and then presses his perfect little pout in teasing kisses over it.

‘I love you, darling,’ he says softly, looking up at Crowley’s from under his lashes. ‘And I will show you that in any number of ways.’

The wet heat of his mouth engulfing Crowley is almost too much to bear in the wake of those words. Gulping in breaths of air, Crowley watches Aziraphale suck on his cock, his tongue laving around the head while his slick hand expertly works the rest of Crowley’s length.

Crowley can remember all too well another time, eighty years ago, when the Angel had been on his knees between Crowley’s legs, performing this same act to express his love and devotion to the Demon. A demonstration given through service, with the offering of nothing but his body, because back then Aziraphale’s lips had been sealed.

Not anymore, Crowley thinks thickly, exhaling shakily while Aziraphale bobs his head, sucking him down into glorious heat over and over.

They don’t have to bite back their feelings and hope that their weak human bodies will be enough anymore. Aziraphale loves him. Aziraphale loves him as hopelessly and messily as Crowley loves Aziraphale. Aziraphale _loves_ him and he’s saying it, saying it so easily, saying it over and over again - because now they _can_.

‘Fuck, I love you,’ Crowley gasps, running his fingers through Aziraphale’s fluffy hair as the angel - _his_ angel - moans and swallows around him, his throat warm and hugging Crowley’s prick.

‘Oh, angel, my angel, _mine_ …’

Aziraphale pulls back until he’s sucking on Crowley’s head again, lingering for a few torturous seconds before pulling off.

Crowley blesses under his breath, but then Aziraphale is in his arms again, sliding his tongue into Crowley’s mouth to share the Demon’s bitter taste between them.

‘And you call _me_ a tease,’ Crowley growls when they break apart.

Aziraphale brushes his fingertips over Crowley’s straining cock. ‘I’d much rather have you come inside me.’

‘Would’ve met that criteria if I came in your mouth,’ says Crowley with a smirk, enjoying the mixture of irritation and embarrassment on Aziraphale’s countenance.

‘You know what I meant.’

Crowley does, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to drag it out of Aziraphale. ‘Can’t read minds, angel. Do enlighten me on precisely what you meant.’

‘Crowley,’ Aziraphale says, his tone partly pleading, partly warning.

‘Hmm?’ Crowley grins, leaning lazily against the counter and very much appreciating the view.

Aziraphale is beautiful, his blond hair all mussed up, his lips kiss-bitten and glistening, and his body - oh, Crowley’s fingers are aching to touch. With the dressing gown off one shoulder, the array of hickeys and love bites Crowley has left on him is on glorious display, and the jut of his erection is prominent against the red satin.

‘Oh, you’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?’ Aziraphale says.

‘Well, it’s fairly straightforward, innit? Dunno why you’re hesitating,’ Crowley drawls.

Aziraphale looks at him for a long moment. Then he loosens his sash with a single pull, shrugging off the dressing gown where it pools in a heap of scarlet satin at his feet.

Nude and shameless and utterly demanding, Aziraphale says, ‘ _Fuck me_ , Crowley. I want you to fuck me until I forget every damned thing in this world but your name.’

Crowley’s jaw drops open. ‘Fucking heaven.’

‘Yes to the first. I do not much care for the second,’ says Aziraphale, lips twitching.

‘Oh, you bastard,’ Crowley hisses, hopping around to kick off his pyjama bottoms. Aziraphale watches, wearing a pleased smirk.

‘Bedroom, then?’ Crowley yanks off his top, throwing it away unceremoniously. ‘Though I wouldn’t mind having you right here,’ he adds, eyeing the Angel lasciviously as he advances. ‘Look at you, naked and tempting in my kitchen. Could just bend you over the fucking table and have my wicked way with you.’

‘I wouldn’t want to make a mess of your kitchen,’ says Aziraphale breathily, skimming his fingers over Crowley’s chest while the Demon wraps his arms around him, bringing their naked bodies together.

‘Believe me, angel,’ says Crowley with a dark chuckle, ‘I want to make a mess of you on every single surface.’

The shy blush on Aziraphale’s face contrasts with the pure arousal in his eyes. The sight of it makes Crowley’s cock twitch.

‘Well, I was thinking,’ he says, ‘I am still filthy from last night. Both of us could do with a shower…’

Crowley gapes at him, jaw slackening again. Shower sex. Aziraphale wants to have sex with him. In the _shower_.

Holy shit.

‘Holy shit,’ Crowley mutters.

‘Is that not agreeable?’ Aziraphale asks, brows furrowing.

‘Not agreeable, no, no, it’s not _not_ agreeable,’ Crowley says, starting to walk Aziraphale backwards out of the kitchen. ‘It is very, _very_ agreeable. Fuck.’

‘I mean,’ Aziraphale says, letting Crowley manhandle him down the corridors towards the bedroom again. ‘We have never -’

‘We haven’t,’ Crowley confirms. ‘Well, aren’t you the adventurer?’

The Angel is blushing again. ‘It’s just that we’d never had reason to … we didn’t have the opportunity …’ He clears his throat. ‘I just - I want to experience it with you. Everything. With you.’

Crowley has to take a moment to collect himself, stopping in their tracks. Meeting Aziraphale’s eyes, he says, ‘Yeah. Yeah. Everything. Anything. Yeah. Whatever you like, angel. All of it. You wanna fuck on the moon, we’ll fuck on the moon.’

Aziraphale laughs as Crowley finally pulls him into the bedroom and through to the bathroom. ‘Perhaps another time,’ he says, eyes twinkling.

Crowley’s bathroom is as spacious and imposing as his bedroom, with a glass-walled shower area and a black porcelain bathtub* larger than it has any right to be. But Crowley doesn’t give Aziraphale any time to take in the surroundings before he has yanked the Angel into the shower corner and pressed him up firmly against the cool, tiled wall.

(* Ever a champion of frivolous miracles, Crowley usually favours a snap of his fingers to clean up his human corporation on the day-to-day.

But every now and then, Crowley has indulged in long bubble baths, long being the keyword. Sloth is one of his favourite sins.)

Aziraphale gasps when the Demon pins him in place, his hands strong on Aziraphale’s waist and the length of his body pressed to the Angel’s front.

His lips yield at once under Crowley’s and within moments they are kissing hungrily, tongues tangling together and teeth digging into skin. Aziraphale hugs Crowley close and tries to buck his hips, encouraging Crowley to grind his cock against the Angel’s.

Moaning around Aziraphale’s tongue, Crowley turns on the overhead rain shower with a thought. The two of them are not standing directly under the showerhead, but that doesn’t stop Crowley and Aziraphale from getting the full rainfall over them anyway, the water temperature warm and perfect.

Crowley lets his hands wander, massaging gently over Aziraphale’s plush body as the water washes them. Despite Aziraphale’s comment about being filthy, Crowley knows they are both already clean anyway. He’d miracled away all remnants of their lovemaking from last night before they fell asleep, except -

As his hands find Aziraphale’s buttocks, Crowley remembers with a start - ah, right, of course. He’d cleaned them both up everywhere _except_ between Aziraphale’s legs.

Aziraphale shudders when Crowley slips his fingers into the cleft of his arse, stroking and probing until he finds - yes, the Angel is still stretched open from last night, and very sticky and dripping with come*.

(* Crowley won’t ask why, even hours later, the come hasn’t dried on Aziraphale’s skin. Clearly Aziraphale doesn’t _want_ it to**.

** It is not until weeks later that Crowley will finally dredge up the nerve to ask Aziraphale why he likes to leave the mess after they fuck. The answer is not what Crowley expects.)

No matter what, Crowley can never deny how arousing he finds it when Aziraphale goes about with Crowley’s spend dripping between his legs. Swallowing Aziraphale’s moan, Crowley strokes over the Angel’s slick hole, teasing and testing before sliding one finger inside. Aziraphale is so open and relaxed that it doesn’t take much more for Crowley to press in a second one, feeling his own come squeeze out over his fingers at the intrusion.

Aziraphale breaks off the kiss, breathing hard. ‘Darling, if you do not ravish me against this wall like that time at Tadfield, I shall be quite cross with you.’

Crowley snorts, crooking his fingers in and out of Aziraphale’s hole. ‘I’ve ravished you against many a wall over the centuries, angel.’

‘That is true,’ Aziraphale acknowledges, angling his hips to give Crowley more access. ‘Nonetheless, I was most disappointed when you didn't at Tadfield.’

‘The world was about to end,’ says Crowley somewhat incredulously. ‘We had other things to worry about than sneaking in a shag.’

‘The world was about to end, _exactly_ ,’ says Aziraphale, his breath hitching when Crowley works in a third finger, this time with added lubrication. ‘We were running out of time, and I was beginning to fear that my time with _you_ was about to end.’

Aziraphale presses a swift kiss to Crowley’s lips before leaning back against the wall. ‘I had wished you would take me right then and there, Satanic nuns be damned. I wished you had stopped time. Like you did at the Bastille, do you remember?’

‘Of course, I remember,’ Crowley croaks, moving his fingers almost frantically in Aziraphale now. How the fuck can he _ever_ forget the bloody Bastille?

He is feeling a little faint at having their past encounters brought up so candidly. Shit, this is another thing they can do, now, isn’t it? They can _talk_ about everything that happened before but hadn’t been able to address again.

Fuck, Crowley needs to wrap his mind around a lot of things. It is as if his entire worldview has suddenly shifted.

‘You were so good to me in Paris, darling,’ Aziraphale is moaning, now rolling his hips to meet Crowley’s fingers.

Crowley breathes in, focusing on the warmth of the water raining down on them. He can do this. He can open his mouth on all the things he hasn’t been allowed to touch upon till now.

‘Angel,’ he says slowly. ‘You were practically begging to be fucked in the Bastille.’

Aziraphale’s cheeks redden again, but he says, without a hint of hesitation, ‘Of course. I hadn’t had you in so _long_ by then.’

‘That is not true.’ Crowley raises an eyebrow. ‘We’d definitely met in the previous decades. And I vividly recall you got into my pants during some of those meetings.’

Surprisingly, it’s not so hard, talking about these things. The words are coming easier than Crowley thought they would, as he stands there, looking into Aziraphale’s earnest eyes as he pleasures him.

Aziraphale is breathing harder now, squirming on Crowley’s fingers. ‘But we’d be interrupted or … or we’d - _oh_! Oh, Crowley right there,’ Aziraphale moans and Crowley presses in, teasing at the Angel’s prostate.

Panting, Aziraphale continues, ‘There were interruptions or - or we would, ahh, ah, we’d run out of time …’ He licks his lips. ‘We hadn’t had penetrative intercourse for several decades before Paris.’

Crowley stops moving his hand, his fingers slowly slipping out of Aziraphale. The Angel whines in protest, but Crowley just stares at him.

‘What?’ Aziraphale asks, voice shot with frustration and need.

’Just … wow.’ Crowley tilts his head. ‘Y’know, I’d sorta guessed it was something like that when you propositioned me in Paris, but …’ Crowley huffs a laugh, smirking. ‘Goddamn, angel, youreally were just that desperate for my cock, huh?’

Flushed, Aziraphale gives him a look that is as shy as it is downright enticing. ‘Like I said, my dear, you really are so good to me when you …’ The Angel hesitates for a split second before saying in a rush, ‘when you give me your cock.’

If Crowley had thought he was aroused before, that is nothing to what he feels now. Hissing under his breath, he tugs Aziraphale forward, letting their mouths graze in a kiss before he spins the Angel around and splays him against the wall.

‘You really are a tempting little bastard,’ Crowley hisses in his ear, pushing his upper body along Aziraphale’s back.

‘I could very much say the same of you,’ says Aziraphale, going breathless when he feels Crowley press the blunt head of his cock, lubed and ready, to the Angel’s entrance. ‘Oh, Crowley, _please_.’

‘You could wait decades for me back in the day, but can’t even stand to be empty for a few hours now?’ Crowley says, amused.

‘With the recent developments, I’m rather under the impression that you would give me your cock at a moment’s notice. Wouldn’t you, my love?’

Crowley blesses under his breath, feeling the blood roar in his ears. He snaps his hips forward, shoving his prick inside Aziraphale’s channel in one smooth move. Crowley groans at the wet heat enveloping him, feeling the snug fit of Aziraphale’s silken walls and the mixed slick of lubricant and Crowley’s own spend from before.

Aziraphale matches Crowley with a cry of his own, keening at the sudden stretch as the Demon buries himself all the way inside.

Stilling, Crowley drops a few kisses along Aziraphale’s shoulders, liking the taste of warm water on angel.

He is waiting for Aziraphale to adjust, but quicker than Crowley is expecting, Aziraphale pushes back on his cock impatiently.

‘Move, Crowley, I’m more than prepared from last night.’

With a chuckle, Crowley obeys. Gripping the Angel by his ample hips, Crowley rocks into him, setting a swift pace right off. He slows the pull out, letting his cock drag over Aziraphale’s walls and catch on his rim, before slamming back in hard and fast into his prostate.

Aziraphale cries out, probably still sensitive from the previous night, but he eagerly meets Crowley thrust for thrust, bracing his forearms on the wall for leverage.

‘Oh, look at you, angel,’ Crowley says, somewhat awed as he watches Aziraphale’s body suck in his prick. His flushed arse cheeks jiggle with every smack of Crowley’s pelvis on them. ‘Is this what you wanted? To be filled with my cock over and over again?’

The Angel can only moan, the sound of his voice echoing with that of the shower and the wet slapping of skin on skin.

‘I wish you could see yourself, angel,’ Crowley says, grunting with the effort of fucking. ‘My greedy little hedonist. I bet you’d take my cock and keep it warm for me if I asked, wouldn’t you? Just hold it close and snug in this tight little arse of yours or up your pretty wet cunt for hours. But I bet even that wouldn't be enough to satisfy you, hmm?’

It takes a few moments, but Aziraphale gathers enough sense of self to gasp out a reply, ‘Well then … you - you would, ahh … see to me tho - thoroughly … won’t you, dear?’

Crowley chuckles. ‘I see I’ve got my work cut out for me.’

Aziraphale glances over his shoulder then. ‘Why, are you complaining?’

‘Aww, hell no. If you want to spend eternity in nothing but orgasmic bliss, then that’s exactly what I’ll give you.’

The Angel manages a laugh, cut short with a moan. ‘And if, _ohh_ … if I need … a sustenance break?’

Crowley is both proud of Aziraphale’s capability to inject a joke in this situation, and spurred on to return the Angel to incoherency.

‘That also,’ he grunts, rocking his hips relentlessly. ‘If you fancy an eternity of sushi tastings, I’ll make that happen.’

Aziraphale gasps out another _hah_ of laughter. ‘I do want eternity,’ he says, more softly than before. ‘I want …’ he shudders, his arms quivering under Crowley’s thrusts, ‘… an eternity of …loving and - and being loved by … you.’

Crowley almost stops then, his ears ringing with what Aziraphale has just said.

‘Crowley?’ Aziraphale whispers.

Blessing out loud, Crowley yanks Aziraphale back on him, winding one arm around him to grab the Angel’s cock. Aziraphale cries out, throwing his head back on Crowley’s shoulder as the Demon thrusts harder into him, the long clever fingers around Aziraphale’s prick jerking him at the same frantic pace.

‘Crowley!’ Aziraphale moans, again and again, as he is steadily fucked to the brink and then pushed over, keening as his cock spurts all over Crowley’s hand.

Crowley latches onto his neck, digging with his teeth and sucking hard on the flesh. He grows hazy with pleasure, feeling Aziraphale pulse around him as he shoves as deep as he can into the Angel’s pliant body, fucking Aziraphale into the wall until his orgasm crests at last.

They are both panting, Aziraphale into the crook of his arm and Crowley into his neck, their bodies overcome with tremors as they slowly relax, returning to their senses.

Aziraphale trembles when Crowley pulls out of him, sighing when the Demon slips in a finger to soothe the abused muscles. Crowley strokes him for a few seconds, mouthing at his neck, and then gently guides Aziraphale towards the bathtub.

The shower turns off and when Aziraphale blinks, the huge bathtub, enough to accommodate four people at least, is filled with water - a little warmer than the shower and, again, perfect.

‘We’re going in there?’ Aziraphale asks when Crowley steps in first, sinking into the water with a sigh.

Crowley smiles lazily up at him. ‘Figured we could use with a bit of relaxation after that. Haven’t you ever had a bath, angel?’

‘Um,’ Aziraphale shifts from one foot to the other, ‘not often. Perhaps not since the Roman baths, in fact.’

The Demon stares at him. He laughs. ‘Can’t believe you haven't been indulging in these, a little hedonist like you.’ He grins at Aziraphale, letting the Angel know he is being teased.

Aziraphale crosses his arms, still not getting in. ‘Well, it’s not a very productive activity, is it?’

‘And sex is?’ Crowley smirks.

Aziraphale’s mouth drops open and Crowley laughs again. He flicks a hand, splashing some water at the Angel.

‘Well, it can be. D’you know some humans like to catch up on reading in the bath?’

The look of abject horror on Aziraphale’s face is all the reward Crowley is looking for.

‘Oh, just come in, angel. Tell you what, since you haven’t experienced the magic of a bath since the bloody Romans, I’ll be - what’s that stupid word you like to call me? - oh yes, _nice_. I’ll be nice to you. You sit between my legs and I’ll hold you and we’ll just relax, hmm?’

Crowley can see Aziraphale warming up to the idea from the moment he invites him into his arms. It’s all Crowley can do not to grin like an idiot as he continues,

‘But next time, I expect you to return this nice little act.’

Aziraphale smiles then, moving to step inside. ‘Of course, darling, you deserve all the nice things in the world,’ he croons, ignoring Crowley’s sound of disgust.

‘And since you’re being so very nice to me …’ Aziraphale carefully manoeuvres himself until he is kneeling between Crowley’s legs. To Crowley’s surprise, the Angel takes hold of his soft cock and begins to stroke him.

Normally Crowley wouldn’t return to an aroused state so quickly. But all he can think right now is that his Angel wants him hard again and his body simply _obeys_ , blood rushing to fill his spent prick until he is full and erect.

Meeting Crowley’s shocked gaze with a coy smile, Aziraphale turns around. He lets himself settle back against Crowley, reaching under him to align Crowley’s cock with his arse.

Crowley breathes out sharply as Aziraphale sinks onto him with a little moan, wiggling in his lap until he is fully seated.

‘Damn. You really are working up to an eternity of fucking, aren't you,’ Crowley says breathlessly, only half-teasing, as Aziraphale leans back into him, laying his head on Crowley’s shoulder.

‘I believe there was talk earlier of my keeping your cock nice and warm,’ Aziraphale responds, tuning to nuzzle at Crowley’s neck with a smile.

‘Angel,’ Crowley says, awed. He puts his arms around him. ‘You’re unbelievable.’

Aziraphale just hums happily, angling his face round to receive Crowley’s kiss.

For long minutes, they exchange languid kisses, murmuring sweetly to each other. Aziraphale eventually settles on Crowley’s shoulder again, enjoying the kisses the Demon trails over his cheek, ear and neck.

Crowley keeps his hands on Aziraphale, idly touching him wherever he can reach. Aziraphale sighs in pleasure as Crowley caresses over his chest, letting his fingers graze over his sensitive nipples before diverting to stroke down his arms and sides. Teasing along the tops of Aziraphale’s thighs, eventually Crowley’s hand finds Aziraphale’s soft cock, wrapping his fingers loosely around the sensitive shaft.

Aziraphale chuckles at the touch, but does not shy away. ‘How is yours?’ He asks, a hint of teasing in his voice as he grinds a little on Crowley’s cock.

‘Mm,’ Crowley hums, sidetracked by the new love bite he is sucking under Aziraphale’s ear. ‘Lovely,’ he sighs, leaning back to admire his work. ‘You’re doing a lovely job of keeping me warm.Positively toasty.’

Aziraphale wrinkles his nose. ‘Oh, let’s not use that term. It makes me feel like food.’

‘You can have it on good authority that you’re downright _delectable_ , angel,’ Crowley grins, nipping at his neck.

‘Oh, you’re just ridiculous,’ exclaims Aziraphale, laughing. ‘I do love you so,’ he sighs, leaning back.

Crowley pauses. ‘Since when?’

‘When?’

‘When did you fall in love with me?’ Crowley asks very quietly.

Aziraphale falls silent for several seconds, thinking. He takes Crowley’s free hand, letting their fingers intertwine.

‘Do you know, I have never been able to pinpoint that,’ he says at last, quiet and clear. ‘The only thing I can say for certain is - I have, for a very long time.’

‘What about Rome? When we first started to…’ he trails off meaningfully. ‘Were you in love with me then?’ He is almost afraid to know the answer.

Again, Aziraphale takes a moment. ‘Perhaps. I honestly cannot say. If I were, I was not aware of it. But I did care deeply for you. I’ve always cared for you, since long, long before Rome. I know that without a doubt.’

Crowley sits in silence for a minute, absorbing this. ‘Why did you sleep with me?’ He whispers. ‘In Rome - why me? By your own words, you don’t know if you loved me then. You could’ve chosen anyone.’

Aziraphale turns his head, meeting Crowley’s eyes. ‘You were the only one I wanted any intimacy with,’ he says, very softly. ‘Whether that came from caring about you or unknowingly being in love with you, I … I do not know enough to say. But you are the only one I have ever wanted in … in this manner. Even though I knew,’ Aziraphale sighs sadly, ‘how dangerous it would be.’

‘For how long were you aware that you did love me, then?’

‘Centuries,’ Aziraphale says. ‘Possibly more than a millennium. There wasn’t a fulcrum, a turning point. By the time I _realised_ I knew, I had already known for ages.’

There is another pocket of thoughtful silence. ‘What changed in 1941?’ Crowley asks abruptly.

From the way Aziraphale stiffens, he knows the Angel knows exactly what he means.

‘You knew for centuries that you loved me. And I know you were aware of my feelings. But that night of the Blitz, you decided out of nowhere to suddenly …’ Crowley swallows, ‘to _show_ me that you loved me. Why?’

Aziraphale averts his gaze, his face flushed. ‘The books,’ his voice is almost a whisper. ‘You saved my books from the bomb.’

‘Yes, and?’ Crowley gives him a confused look.

‘And I … I realised that there isn’t and will never be anyone who loves and cares for me the way you do.’ When Aziraphale looks back, there is the sheen of tears in his eyes. ‘And I couldn’t bear the thought of going another day without letting you know that I love you just as much.’

‘Angel…’

‘I love you, Crowley,’ Aziraphale says plaintively, and Crowley thinks he will never get used to hearing those precious three words from his Angel.

With a helpless sound, Crowley presses his lips to Aziraphale’s, unable to think of any other response that won’t result in him breaking down completely.

Aziraphale kisses him back, reaching up to cradle the back of Crowley’s head. ‘I can’t believe you’re finally mine,’ he says against Crowley’s lips.

‘Was always yours, angel,’ Crowley mumbles. ‘Always.’

As their kisses grow heated again, Aziraphale begins to squirm on Crowley’s lap, starting to pant. Crowley moans at the renewed jolts of arousal shooting through his cock, now beginning to throb in the wet heat of Aziraphale’s body. His idle fingers on Aziraphale’s hardening prick become a firm grip.

Aziraphale moans, bucking up into Crowley’s fist and grinding down on his cock in a rocking motion. He breaks way from Crowley’s mouth, gasping, ‘Crowley, please, I need - I need -!’

Hissing under his breath, Crowley pushes up, setting off a minor miracle to help Aziraphale off his lap and onto his knees. Realising what’s happening, Aziraphale is just able to grab onto the edge of the bathtub before Crowley mounts him from behind, pushing his cock back into Aziraphale’s arse.

The Angel groans as Crowley slams into him, fucking him at what Crowley knows is Aziraphale’s favourite pace. He angles his hips to hit Aziraphale’s sweet spot, rejoicing in the pure pleasure that saturates Aziraphale’s keening voice as Crowley pounds into his beautiful, plump body.

Crowley doesn’t know for how long he stays inside Aziraphale, gritting his teeth against his impending orgasm.

‘Touch yourself, angel,’ Crowley says desperately. ‘Come for me.’

Aziraphale’s arms are trembling under the assault, but he obliges, bracing himself up on one arm and submerging the other to grasp his cock. Crowley can’t see him from this angle, he can’t hear the usual slick slide of Aziraphale’s hand on himself thanks to the water, but he can imagine it so clearly. He has done and seen this so many times, he knows his Angel so well, knows exactly what his beloved needs from him.

Ignoring the water splashing over the sides of the tub from the force of their coupling, Crowley leans down to press kisses to Aziraphale’s neck.

‘Come on, angel,’ he breathes. ‘Let go for me.’ And he bites down.

Aziraphale comes with a sob, his whole body going taut in Crowley’s arms. Crowley holds him up, hugging Aziraphale close as he thrusts into him, spilling inside his heat.

Crowley laves his tongue soothingly over Aziraphale’s neck, leaving a few kisses as he caresses the Angel’s trembling form.

‘Hey,’ he murmurs, ‘how are we feeling?’

Aziraphale leans into Crowley, whimpering when Crowley very gently slips his softening cock out.

‘Empty.’

With a chuckle, Crowley strokes two fingers over Aziraphale’s hole but doesn’t put them in, certain that the Angel must be overstimulated now.

‘I’ll fill you up whenever you want,’ he promises, kissing Aziraphale’s neck. ‘But I think you need a little rest now.’

Aziraphale hums. ‘You know, a nap doesn’t sound so bad. Oh dear, I’m afraid you are rubbing off on me.’

‘Yet you never complain when I rub off on you,’ Crowley teases.

The Angel makes a scandalised noise, as if he hadn’t been writhing on Crowley’s cock not two minutes ago.

Dropping sweet kisses where he can reach, Crowley helps Aziraphale up and out of the bathtub. Without bothering to towel them off, he whisks them away to the bedroom, landing softly on the bed with a _fwump_.

‘Oh dear,’ says Aziraphale, who has ended up on his stomach. ‘I’m getting your sheets wet.’

‘Issalright,’ says Crowley, his attention snagged by something else entirely. He moves to kneel over the prone Angel, who is still dithering tiredly over the ruined sheets.

‘Oh, we should dry these off,’ Aziraphale is saying. ‘I’m all wet.’

‘Oh, you definitely are,’ Crowley purrs, carefully spreading Aziraphale’s arse cheeks to admire the milky rivulets of come oozing out of him.

Aziraphale squirms. ‘What are you doing?’

Crowley licks his lips, spreading Aziraphale’s legs open and settling down between them. ‘Listen, I know you have a thing about leaving the mess after I’ve come in you’ - _Someone knows why_ , Crowley adds in his mind - ‘but fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. Angel, just let me?’

When Aziraphale doesn’t protest, Crowley drags the flat of his tongue over the well-fucked hole, loving the way the muscles quiver under his touch. Aziraphale whimpers into the sheets.

‘Sensitive?’ Crowley asks.

‘A little bit.’

‘D’you want me to stop?’

Aziraphale wiggles his butt. ‘Definitely not.’

Chuckling, Crowley returns to his task, delicately teasing over and around Aziraphale’s rim to lick off his come. Crowley has never been crazy about his own taste, but he has always been into this idea, cleaning up the Angel and soothing him with tongue and mouth after a good fuck. He licks up the spunk dripping down over Aziraphale’s perineum and balls, and then sucks gently on his rim for good measure, careful not to push his tongue inside.

When he’s done, Crowley turns to nip playfully at the plush flesh of Aziraphale’s buttocks, eliciting a low yelp from the Angel.

‘I love these, angel,’ Crowley says, scraping his teeth over the meat of Aziraphale’s left cheek before smacking a kiss. ‘You have no idea how much they drive me wild.’

Without giving Aziraphale the time to reply, Crowley turns his attention to Aziraphale’s lower back, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses up his spine and back until Crowley is draped over the Angel.

Aziraphale hums, smiling slightly as he is pressed into the mattress under Crowley’s weight.

‘I can’t wait to kiss you out there,’ Crowley murmurs, mouthing over Aziraphale’s shoulder.

‘Out where?’ Aziraphale asks, sounding hazy and blissed-out still.

‘Fucking everywhere,’ Crowley mutters between kisses and licks to his neck. ‘I’ll take you to the opera and kiss you in the box seat. I’ll bring you to the Ritz and kiss you at the table. I’ll buy you ice creams in the park and kiss you by the pond. In front of the ducks.’

‘Goodness, not in front of the ducks,’ Aziraphale jokes, laughing breathily.

‘They will be scandalised.’

‘Dear me, that is a lot of public displays.’

‘Angel, you kissed me right outside the Ritz yesterday and then joked about getting banned for indecency,’ Crowley says dryly. ‘And don’t even get me started on all the times you were _blatantly_ excited at the risk of getting caught by humans when we fucked. You don’t get to pretend to be scandalised by PDA.’

‘What’s PDA?’ asks Aziraphale, puzzled.

Crowley snorts. ‘You’ve got books, look it up.’

‘Oh, my books,’ Aziraphale says then, giving a sigh. ‘I suppose I ought to check up on my bookshop soon. You mentioned young Adam added some new volumes?’

‘Mm-hmm.’ Crowley sucks Aziraphale’s earlobe into his mouth. ‘You’ll have fun doing inventory. Want me to drop you later today?’

‘That will be very appreciated,’ Aziraphale smiles, lazily enjoying Crowley’s endless attention.

‘’Course. I’ll disappear for a couple of days then. Let you really get into those books.’

‘Oh, that’s not necessary,’ Aziraphale says at once. ‘You don’t need to leave at all.’

‘And what, help out with the books?’ Crowley snickers. ‘You do realise I’ll just get on your nerves?’

‘Not with the books, no.’ Aziraphale clears his throat. ‘You see, dear, the flat above my bookshop has a bed I haven’t had much occasion to use before. And,’ Aziraphale licks his lips, ‘it needs some … breaking in.’

‘Fucking heaven, angel,’ Crowley groans and bites his neck, digging in with his teeth until Aziraphale whimpers. ‘You’re just on a roll today, aren’t you.’

His blood is rushing south again at Aziraphale’s remark and Crowley can’t help but rock his hips, sliding his hardening prick between the Angel’s arse cheeks. Aziraphale makes an appreciative noise and Crowley does it again.

‘Sure you don’t want time alone to go through your books?’ Crowley asks a little breathlessly, mouthing at Aziraphale’s shoulder again.

‘The books will still be there after we christen my new bed.’

‘Ugh. Let’s stick with the phrase, _breaking it in_. Please.’

‘I ought to advise you, however, to keep your expectations low.’ Aziraphale gives him an inscrutable look over his shoulder. ‘My bed isn’t as … _gratuitously large_ as yours.’

‘Gratuitously large?’ Crowley echoes in disbelief, freezing. ‘Oh, I’ll ssshow you _gratuitousssly large_ ,’ he growls, pulling away to flip Aziraphale onto to his back.

Aziraphale smiles coyly up at him when Crowley pins him down. He spreads his legs.

‘Fuck,’ Crowley mutters.

‘Yes, please,’ says Aziraphale breathily.

As it is, quite a few hours pass before they make it to the bookshop, where Crowley and Aziraphale end up breaking the unused bed in more literally than they intended. Aziraphale shrugs off the initial shock of the frame’s legs giving out from under them and keeps going, until Crowley, breathless and moaning, jokes about being fucked right through the floor of the flat into the shop below.

‘Is that a challenge?’ Aziraphale chuckles, snapping his hips harder into Crowley.

Luckily Crowley does not get fucked through the floor. When he repairs the bed afterwards, he is thanked with a chaste kiss and a not-so-chaste ride that nearly breaks the bed again.

Aziraphale finally turns his attention to inventory but the attempt is in vain, for Crowley follows him downstairs and generally makes a nuisance of himself, latching onto the Angel from behind and distracting him with increasingly filthy kisses to his neck. Aziraphale’s half-hearted protests get him nowhere and he eventually gives in with a roll of his eyes, allowing Crowley to lead him to the backroom where they snuggle on the sofa with wine.

As the sunlight fades outside, Crowley tightens his arm around Aziraphale and says, quiet and serious, ‘I think about that night all the time, y’know. In 1941, when you showed me you loved me, here on this sofa. Even though I thought it would be our only chance, I was still glad you told me. I would’ve taken knowing for a single night, over an eternity of doubt.’

Aziraphale meets his gaze, his blue eyes earnest. ‘Me too, Crowley. Everything you said … I never thought we could have this. This life where I can be with you. Without fear. Just … love.’

Crowley’s eyes are prickling again. He buries his face in Aziraphale’s cloud-fluff hair. ‘I love you, Aziraphale. So fucking much. You have no idea.’

Aziraphale leans into his chest, soft and tender. ’Kiss me, my love,’ he whispers.

And in the backroom of a bookshop, at the end of a summer’s day, Crowley and Aziraphale kiss simply for the joy of sharing a loving kiss*, without the shadow of a wicked game hanging over it.

(* And perhaps it is with this kiss that Crowley, the Serpent of Eden who had once spun stars into existence, finally sheds the skin of a wicked thing to become what he has always been:

A loving thing who is incandescently in love with the Angel in his arms - and now and forevermore, he is irrevocably loved back.)

**Author's Note:**

> 2000 years of shagging and they're now entering the honeymoon stage lmao and look our babies are learning to kinda communicate F I N A L L Y ... ain't that the raunchiest kink I've ever written
> 
> Honestly, of the background ideas/scenarios I have for the Wicked Thing series which don't all make it into the stories, post-Armageddon Crowley and Aziraphale talking about their past was always set in stone. I like to think they learn to have serious, emotional conversations about what they went through (without having sex throughout the talk, ahem. In writing this particular part, I wanted to keep the overall tone fairly light and fluffy, with smut thrown in bc well ... this is a smutverse)
> 
> /slams fist on table/ Even with this one, the ratio of my pre-Armageddon (aka angsty smut) and post-Armageddon (fluffy smut) fics in this verse is currently 2:1 … talk about imbalance, yikes, I need to give Crowley more happy endings XD
> 
> Please drop a comment and let me know your thoughts, they make my day! :) You can also find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RV_Phoenix_Soar) and [Tumblr](https://phoenix-soar.tumblr.com)
> 
> More of my Ineffable Husbands fics [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=575567&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Phoenix_Soar)


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